


Colorswapped Snippets

by hanktalkin



Series: Colorswapped Universe [3]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Asexual Character, Cardboard Cutouts, Crossfaction, Flashbacks, Gen, M/M, Male Friendship, Non-Chronological, Post WAR!, Pre WAR!, Pre-Relationship, Relationship Discussions, Suicidal Thoughts, Trust Issues, raccoons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9380666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanktalkin/pseuds/hanktalkin
Summary: Just a few short stories from my colorswapped universe. Will be marked complete if/when I finally get that sequel to Cyclical out.





	1. Demo & Demo

**Author's Note:**

> I recommend reading the other 2 stories in series, but if you’re lazy I have a handy guide  
> RED Demo = Tavish DeGroot  
> BLU Demo = Graham  
> BLU Soldier = Jane Doe  
> RED Soldier = Mary Major

Tavish dusted the snow off his cap, one foot in the bar and one foot still outside, much to the annoyance of the other patrons trying to get warm. He would extend them a sympathetic look, but he had more pressing matters.

“Are you comin’ in or nae? Because if you think I’m goin’ tae freeze me own arse off for you, you’re bloody barmy.”

“Ach, dunnae get your knickers in a twist, I’m comin’.”

True to his word, the BLU Demoman scuttled inside, giving a “ _gah_ ” of protest as his RED counterpart let the door slam shut on him. Tavish ignored him, instead finding then two spots at the mostly open bar.

Tavish rather liked being stationed at Coldfront. There were certainly more people in upper Washington than in New Mexico, and more people meant better drinks. (Better requisitions in general, but better drinks were the principle part.) He and Graham had slipped out of their respective bases earlier that night, braving the awful cold for what had been promised to be the best beer this side of the Continental Divide. Tavish had tried to convince Mary to come with, but the Soldier wasn’t nearly as devoted to the cause of good alcohol as he was. He was hoping that Graham might have been able to persuade Jane to come along at least, but no such luck.

“Couple o’ bevvys for me ‘n me brother here,” Graham said as he took a seat next to Tavish. When the bartender blinked in surprise at the two nearly identical men in front of her, Graham grinned, “we’re twins,” in explanation.

“I’m sure she can see that you eejit,” Tavish said gruffly. He held up his fingers. “Two beers, please and thank.”

The bartender nodded; that was a language she understood.

“You gotta stop actin’ like it’s the best joke in the world,” Tavish told Graham as she walked away. “It’s nae funny, and the less people think we’re suspicious the better.”

Graham just shrugged. “How else are we goin’ tae explain it?”

Although Graham shaved his facial hair into a circle beard—in contrast to Tavish’s mutton chops—in every other way they were indistinguishable. The fact that they both had a missing eye on the same side of the face made comparing the two of them even stranger, and there wasn’t much they could do to disguise the fact. Thankfully, they tended to lean toward their team colors for their casual wear, saving them even more public notice. On the occasions the four of them went out, the optical illusion was doubled, and Graham had taken on the guise of “twin club” for whenever people got too nosey.

Tavish shook his head, and waited for their drinks to arrive. As Graham beat the show out of his jacket, Tavish got to thinking about it again.

“Do you ever wonder about that?” he asked a bit absently.

Graham looked up, holding the sleeves out straight. “Aye?”

“The fact we all look like this. Just seems odd—finding nine people that just so happen tae look like the nine others on the opposite team? Always seemed a little strange tae me.”

Graham shrugged again, resuming his cleaning. “Engie explained it tae me one time, I think. Somethin’ about respawn takin’ the average of people, faces and bodies and the like. Spits out two blokes that are a lot more close tae each other than before, makes it so the teams are more fair. I think that’s what he was sayin’ at lease. Hard tae tell sometimes when he goes off on a spiel. Does it really matter?”

That made sense, though Tavish couldn’t recall his face looking any different than it did now.

“Gah. It’s just…that’s all the war seems tae be: makin’ it so things are so fair that nobody can win.”

“Hey, that’s nae true,” Graham said, slipping his jacket back on with a grin. “After all, BLU won pretty damn hard this mornin’, wouldn’t you say?”

Tavish elbowed him in the ribs, revenge for the underhanded sticky-trap inflicted on him that day. Their beers arrived, thankfully, and Graham’s self-satisfied laugh was drowned out under the bottle.

Fair. What a load of shit. It was all about playing fair, wasn’t it? That’s why there was no fighting outside of work hours, no building more than one sentry, no carrying two swords into battle (even thought Tavish could do at least three and everyone knew it.) All fun and fair to be paraded around in front of the cameras. He hoped RED had enjoyed the show.

“Do you think it’ll be endin’ soon?” he asked, directing his question to the mirror in front of the bar.

“What will? Dunnae tell me you’ve reached the part o’ the night we’re you’re gettin’ nihilistic mate. We’re only one drink in!”

Despite himself, Tavish allowed a half smile to his face. “I’m nae talkin’ about _life_ you twit. I’m talkin’ about the gravel wars.”

“Oh. Them. What makes you say that?” Graham asked, finishing his beer and motioning for another.

“Haven’t you noticed? The last cameras went down today. There was one still on yesterday, the one just above mid, and today…caput.” Tavish made an appropriate hand motion.

Graham screwed up his face, taking Tavish’s worries seriously for the first time in months. After a minute of consideration he shook his head, no more certain than the RED.

“I dunno. It might. I suppose if the next check never comes I’ll worry about it then.” He gazed off in front of him, but not looking his reflection. “I dunno what’d I’d do really. I’d still live with Major I suppose, but I dunno about work. Being a regular mercenary would be hard after gettin’ so used tae bein’ immortal.”

“Aye, I was thinkin’ along the same lines.”

Despite knowing how to press every single one of Tavish’s nerves and oft being downright immature, Graham was actually and alright guy. They’d spent a lot of time as mates, ever since Tavish and Jane had got back together, and Tavish found he’d developed a bit of a soft spot for his double. He was easy to talk to, something Tavish never thought he’d find in a BLU that wasn’t Jane, and with that they’d made up for lost time. Now, he felt he was as close to his fellow Demoman as he was with Mary.

“You know,” Graham said, interrupting his thoughts suddenly. “I just realized this is the first time we’ve gone out without at least one o’ the Soldiers.”

“You’re just seein’ that now?”

“Well I was talkin’ about Major and-. You know what, never mind.” Graham grinned. “This is the perfect opportunity tae gab.”

“‘Gab’? What are you now, a seventy year old bag talkin’ tae her girls at bingo night?”

“Well, what else do a couple o’ blokes do when they’re out at the bar?” When Tavish didn’t provide the oh-so-obvious reply, Graham answered for him. “Talk about their sex lives, obviously.” His smirk was so acidic it could melt door hinges.

“Oh for the love of-” Tavish was just about ready to smack him upside the head. “You’ve got some nerve BLU.”

“What? Man’s got interests, he talks about them with his buddies.” Graham leaned toward Tavish, putting his elbow on the table and his head in his hand. “ _C’mon_ DeGroot, I’m dyin’ for all the juicy details.”

“You’re a piece o’ shite,” Tavish replied blandly.

“Ach, c’mon you old prude, dunnae you ken how tae have a good sesh?”

“I cannae be that much older than you, you div. And if you’re so keen on the _details_ why dunnae you go ask Jane?” Tavish asked snidely, knowing full well why.

Graham looked a little green. “Are you crazy? And wake up the next mornin’ with me balls stapled tae the flagpole? No thank you sir, I’d rather stay away from that snake nest.”

“Well then, if you cannae ask him, you might as well give up. Because I’ll clue you in mate: I dunnae kiss and tell.” With that, Tavish leaned back and finished off his beer, the conversation over.

Tavish DeGroot was a man of his word, and his word included not gossiping about Jane’s personal life. (His personal life too, but that wasn’t the point at the moment.) He and Jane had never been with each other like that, something the Soldier has made perfectly clear to him before they’d even started dating. Jane had never _explicitly_ told him never to talk about it, but Tavish could smell a closely kept secret a mile away.

“Ach, fine. Be a spoilsport.” Graham tilted back his second beer, then slammed the empty bottle on the bar. He pondered Tavish for a while, watching the RED drink his own beer while peering at Graham from the corner of his eye. Finally, Graham sighed, figuring he wouldn’t weasel anything more out of Tavish tonight. “So…want tae see who can drink who under the table before the night is done?”

“Another competition?” Tavish smiled. “You never win Graham.”

“Ach, but I always finish second place!”

Grin spreading, Tavish motioned the bartender and showed Graham and expression that only said “you’re on.”


	2. Soldier & Soldier

Jane eyed the castle suspiciously. There was no _reason_ to eye the castle suspiciously; it wasn’t inhabited by communists or Nazis or that one woman who cut Jane’s hair and was probably a Celtic Hag in disguise. In fact, it wasn’t even inhabited by a wizard anymore. No, it was just inhabited by the RED Soldier, the most annoying man on the planet who was somehow Jane’s friend.

No sooner had the booming DONG DING of the doorbell stopped rattling Jane’s eardrums than the castle door slammed open, revealing the enemy Soldier.

“Looking sharp, private! Glad you made it!”

He was dressed nice, a clean button down shirt and slacks, freshly shaved and ready to out for the night. It might have been the picture of gentlemanly form had he not had several raccoons dangling off him.

“You’re security is shameful,” Jane grunted in reply. “No locks, answering the door unarmed, and you’ve destroyed the defensive capabilities of the castle by removing the portcullis on this door! If I was the enemy you would have been dead before you could say ‘mommy’.”

“You _are_ the enemy,” Mary pointed out. He didn’t wait for a cantankerous reply, just grabbed Jane by the arm (a _gross_ breach in protocol) and dragged him into the castle. “At attention, men! Your babysitter has arrived!”

“I am not a babysitter!”

He was ignored, not only by Mary but the dozens of raccoons assembled in the entryway. He felt a flare of (not panic, real Soldier definitely do not feel panic) alarm at the sheer numbers of them. They all stared solemnly, and Jane wondered vaguely if Mary _did_ have some sort of control over them.

“The more you stick to the schedule the more likely they are to follow orders,” Mary staged whispered to Jane. “They get fed at five, noon, and seven. If you start getting wishy-washy, they sense that your authority is slipping, and _will_ start a rebellion if you’re not careful. I’ve posted it to the fridge in case you get nervous.”

“I’m not afraid of a bunch of mask-wearing rodents,” Jane growled blandly. Many black-ringed eyes turned to look at him as he spoke, and he suppressed the thought that they could understand what he was saying.

Grabbing Jane’s arm again, Mary dragged him into the kitchen. “Here’s the instructions, and here’s your second in command while I’m away. Lieutenant! At attention!”

Lieutenant Bites stopped chewing a role of paper towel and stared at them.

Mary picked Bites off the counter and plopped him into Jane’s arms. “The Lieutenant is the smartest, bravest raccoon of them all. If you ever need advice-”

“When are you leaving again?” Jane interrupted. He was getting tired of Mary; the man had a way of draining you after only a few minutes.

Surprised at being interrupted, Mary blinked. “I am not sure. Nine I think?”

“I’m only here because Tavish said you needed someone to watch your damn raccoons, and with the way he wields guilt they should stick him in the army. So you better hightail your little ass out of here so I can start on that, and I don’t have to hear you talk another minute.”

Mary looked almost hurt for a second, but the face disappeared quickly, choosing to ignore the insult. “My car’s on the fritz right now. When Graham gets back we’ll head off.”

Jane rolled his eyes. “Right. For your kiddy date at the circus.”

“There is nothing kiddy about the circus, private!” Mary roared, though Jane could tell he was still enjoying himself. “It is full of danger! Stunts! Feats of manly strength!” He dropped his voice and grinned. “And they have elephants.”

Jane suppressed another eye roll.

No sooner than Mary had ended his a second booming speech about the moral fiber of the circus, than the kitchen phone started to ring. Mary picked it up immediately, talking with the with such delight could only be Graham. Slowly his face fell, and by the time he hung up, he looked downright gloomy.

“Graham’s car broke down on the way back home,” he informed Jane sadly. “I hope whatever my car had wasn’t contagious.”

Jane couldn’t believe his ears. All that needling and persuading and for what? He grunted irritably.

Mary noticed his sour mood becoming even more sour. “Do not worry! The circus will be in town for another three days. Graham said he’ll try to get his car up and working before then.”

“Yeah, well that doesn’t change the fact that _I’m_ stuck here with you for the next six hours.” When Mary looked even more confused, Jane pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have a car either. The Engineer dropped me off, and he won’t be back until five.”

“Why don’t you have a car?”

“Because I’m going to put a boot up your ass if you ask again, that’s why.”

That was a bit harsh, even for Jane. But he was cranky, and not looking forward to his day trapped in a castle with the RED Soldier. He most certainly didn’t feel like talking about how Engie had found he’d been driving without a license again and confiscated his car. Something about dying outside of respawn “almost a sure thing with the way you’re going” and “despite being a pain in my side I happen to care what happens to you.” Damn him always trying to be everybody’s mother.

“I will not be spoken like that in my own home!” Mary’s outburst surprised Jane, who’d never seen the RED show much backbone outside the battlefield. Maybe he wasn’t such a liver bellied- “That settles it! You will babysit these raccoons like you said you would, whether you like it or not!”

Or maybe he was an air-headed bobble who didn’t know when to take a hint. Mary grabbed Jane by the arm again, and pulled him toward a day of raccoon-filled fun.

* * *

As much as Jane would just like to sit on the couch for the rest of the day, Mary would have none of it. He went through his daily routine, explaining each action as though Jane would commit it to memory. They ran ‘drills’ (taking the raccoons outside while Mary yelled at them to climb trees), fed them (if Jane never had to smell sour cream again it’d be too soon), and made general cooing noises at the Lieutenant (was Jane going crazy, or was Mary picking up a different raccoon each time?).

After lunch, Jane was sitting in the living room while Mary talked, hands to his temples and trying not to blow a gasket.

“God do you ever shut up?” He failed.

Mary looked up, surprised Jane had said anything after all this time. “What?”

“It’s never so bad when we’re all together, but being alone with you makes me want to tear my hair out. This wasn’t worth it, this day is a goddamned nightmare.”

Mary stared at him. Really stared at him, for so long Jane started to become self-conscious with those big eyes looking so terribly sad.

“Jane? Why don’t you like me?”

Jane didn’t bother to deny it. He let out a snort instead. “Isn’t it obvious? You have _no_ respect for protocol, you do not take _anything_ seriously, and you’re just…too goddamned optimistic! You’re not even halfway to a real Soldier and…”

Jane stopped, his voice catching in his throat because he knew how that sentence ended. He breathed through his nose.

“In short, you remind me of myself.” A much younger version of himself, but the old Jane just the same. The similarities were clear as day. “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I don’t like myself very much.”

The room was silent after that, even the raccoon chatter seemed less than before. Jane didn’t look at Mary during it, the jagged edges inside him a distraction in itself.

“Oh,” Mary said softly. “I didn’t know that.” Jane could feel his eyes on him from across the room. “…If it makes you feel better, _I_ like you.”

A sigh escaped him as he deflated, the last of his anger leaving him. “Thanks Mary.”

Strange as it was, the rest of the day was a lot more…mellow. Not that Mary was any less annoying but Jane found he could stomach it, and had few urges to neck-snap someone. Jane knew he was too tough to fall for some sappy pick-me up speech, so the fact he was almost warming up to Mary must have been some sort of coincidence.

“And _then_ I lit his body on fire while his soul was outside of it,” Mary said, recounting the tale of how he’d gotten the castle in answer to a question Jane never asked.

“Hm,” Jane replied idly. Bites had crawled onto his knee, and he was debating whether he should push the vermin off.

“It wasn’t long after I was declared park ranger that I had to go back to work,” Mary recounted sadly. “Leaving the recruits for the first time was rough, and it took weeks to get them back in order, but hey it’s not like I can just neglect my duties as RED leader.”

Somewhere, in the back of Jane’s mind, something clicked.

“Wait. Repeat what you just said.”

Mary tilted his head. “About being leader? Well it’s a tough job-”

“No you idiot! You just said that you can leave your raccoons alone?” Jane demanded as he sat upright.

“Well…yeah? I have to go to work during the week, you know that.”

“Then what the hell do you need a babysitter for?!?”

Mary blinked, understanding what Jane was getting at but only offering a shrug. “Well, I thought ‘need’ might be a strong word. Keeps them in line. It was Graham’s idea to ask someone to help.”

“Graham? The same Demoman who just so happened to not show up on time, leaving _you_ here with _me_?”

“Uh…”

Despite Mary’s thick headedness, the pieces were falling in place for Jane. The car, the circus, Tavish’s constant guilt-tripping, it was all coming together.

“We’ve been tricked!” When Mary still didn’t get it, Jane rambled on. “Those two are in cahoots. They orchestrated this whole get-together to trap us in the same place for an hour in a half-assed attempt to get us to bond!”

“Really?” Mary didn’t looked outraged, just surprised. “Huh. I guess that does explain a lot of things.”

“You’re damn right it does.” All those times Tavish had tried to get him to bet ‘nicer’ to his RED counterpart, in the end he must have taken it into his own hands. When Jane saw that man face to face next he was going to-

“Did it work?”

“Huh?” Jane blinked, having almost forgotten Mary was in the room with him.

“Did it work?” Mary repeated. “I mean, are we friends now?”

Jane opened and closed his mouth several times. So easily, his anger disappeared again, toothless in the face of a sheer cliff of simplicity.

“Sure. I guess. Whatever makes you feel better about yourself.”

“Great! That’s good to hear.”

Jane had to sit back down then, not even remembering when he’d stood.

Just like that, Mary prattled on his one-sided conversation. It was almost surreal; Jane didn’t like being tricked, but he had to admit…today hadn’t been all bad. The chatting slowed, and Jane heard himself putting in more than ‘hm’ every once in a while, even agreeing with some of Mary’s more sensible thoughts.

Jane might have enjoyed himself right up until five if the Lieutenant hadn’t bit him in the ear.


	3. Tavish / Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback chapter, though I think it may be the only one.

The door to Jane’s apartment shifted, creaking open now that its multitude of locks had been removed. The owner of said apartment pushed inside, supporting the only guest it had and would ever receive.

With all the gentleness of an execution, the guest was dropped, landing on the couch and slouching with drowsiness.

“You’re a saint,” the Demoman remarked emphatically, cuddling the armrest like his life depended on it.

“Do not talk. You are already making my head hurt.”

Jane walked past him. Tavish was his only friend in the world, the only person he would ever let into his otherwise heavily fortified hole-in-the-wall, but that didn’t mean he could stay. The locks clicked back into place; there was always the off chance someone had followed them back here. He checked the location of his shotgun, just in case.

When he came back, Tavish was in the exact same spot, curled up on the ripped couch. It was aging and spotted, the yellow floral print long since melted into a murky piss color to match the rest of Jane’s possessions.

“Alright, don’t get too comfortable. As soon as you sober up, you’re gone.”

Tavish opened his eye vaguely, looking up at Jane. His face was only visible in the half-light from the window, since Jane didn’t believe in electricity after dark. (All the easier for your enemies to find you when you glowed like a neon sign.)

“Awww,” Tavish said, an almost sincere smile crossing his face. “But I was hopin’ tae stay.”

A hard line creased Jane’s brow.

This had been going on for a while now. It was mostly friendly comments, insistences by Tavish that he’d never met anyone else quite like Jane, gentle contact that lasted more than strictly necessary. His advances were as subtle as the rest of him.

He must think Jane was particularly dense not to have noticed it. That, or he was under the delusion that he _was_ being subtle. Either way, he was an idiot.

“Well tough luck, sister,” Jane sad firmly. “The only reason you are here is because I caught you trying to put your keys into a lamppost.”

“It was very convincin’ lamppost,” Tavish mumbled, still smiling at Jane.

Jane made a noise that could only be described as disappointed. He left for the kitchen.

Clean water poured into a slightly smudged glass, taken from the gallon in the fridge. The Soldier didn’t trust his tap water, and he most certainly didn’t trust the bottled water Miss Pauling brought him. There was fluoride and mind control devices laced everywhere he turned.

“Here,” he said, shoving the water and a single aspirin into Tavish’s hand. His own head was pounding, begging him to take a pill as well, but he only had so many of the things. It’d be worth it to get Tavish out of here. “Drink up.”

Tavish did without further complaint.

Jane sat on the other side of the couch, creating a large space between them. It would take time for Tavish to be fit enough to go home, and Jane’s body ached to just lie down. But he couldn’t. He _knew_ Tavish was trustworthy but…there was too much to apprehension to forget.

Even if Tavish had been a fellow BLU and American, Jane wouldn’t have let him within three miles of his home. And yet, somehow the Demoman had wormed his way into Jane’s life with his warm smiles and booming laughed like a…like a wormy… _thing_. That worms. The thought was concerning. That is how so many of his fellow Soldiers fell: seduced by foreign beauties until they let down their guard and then BLAMO. (What actually happened during the blamo was unknown to Jane, but it didn’t take a mastermind to know it was bad.)

Tavish set his glass on the rickety folding table with a satisfied “ah!” He blinked, snuggling down again and looking at Jane with a sleepy eye. The attention was short lived, as the RED began to look around the apartment properly for the first time.

“Jeez. You live like this?”

A spark of irritation flashed in Jane’s mind. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, maggot?”

“I mean you make a shit ton o’ money,” Tavish prattled on, never deterred by Jane’s temper. “Why the hell are you livin’ in a place with carpeting that only touches two walls?”

“Because it’s none of your damn business that’s why!”

For a slippery spy that had infiltrated Jane’s heart, Tavish could be damn annoying.

Tavish put up his hands. “Sorry! Just dunnae shout, it’s hurtin’ my head.” He shifted on his spot, taking off his shoes and brining his knees up to his chest. “I dinnae mean tea take the piss atcha’. Besides, it’s nae like I havenae lived in my own share of shit holes. When I was growin’ up, me ‘n my folks lived in the ricketiest little home you could imagine. Up in the hills on the outside of town.”

Jane was about to say, “didn’t ask,” but the annoyance caught in his throat. As much as he hated to admit it, he liked when Tavish talked. He told stories the way someone else would play the harp.

“I bet we could’ve lived someplace nicer, it’s nae like we were short on money. My folks are just cheapskates.”

“Uh-huh,” Jane replied, which was sometimes the only encouragement Tavish got to keep going.

“It was clean, Mum was always sure o’ that. I was never certain who she was makin’ an impression for; none o’ the other DeGroots ever showed up for visits. It was just us, the dog, and my occasional scabby knee’d friends I brought for the day.”

Jane tried not to imagine a young Tavish, but did anyways. Even though Tavish had told him the story of how he’d lost his eye, Jane pictured him with both. It was just a daydream after all, might as well think of a young Tavish brighter and happier than the one he was with now.

“A lot o’ that changed when the war started. Da was too old tae go back intae the army, but I overheard him tell Mum he couldn’t just keep doin’ mercenary work when there was a real fight happenin’ just over yonder. He’d been drafted for the First World War you know. He carried that with him his whole life.”

Jane sat in the dark room, silence and dust floating around him. As much as his body was begging him to leave for his bedroom and drop onto the mattress, the story held him in place. He could imagine a different man, one older than Tavish was now, debating what to do with both a family and a country to defend.

“Must’ve been hard. Having to make that decision,” he said, his first full sentence in a while.

It had never been a decision for Jane. There was only one path for him, and when the time came, he knew there was only one real outcome. Next to him, Tavish nodded, and Jane almost felt he was reading his thoughts.

“Mum said he wasnae goin’ anywhere without her. He wanted tae move tae the city and get a factory job, if anythin’ tae help out the war effort. She wanted tae go too, since that’s what they let mums do when they wanted tae help. But they couldn’t just leave me in our little cottage at Ullapool, so I came along.” Tavish laughed tossing his head back so Jane could see his Adam’s apple bob. “Tae think, all those kids gettin’ on trains tae flee the city, and here I was goin’ the opposite way!”

Tavish took another drink, and Jane realized he’d been staring. Setting the empty glass down, Tavish drunkenly tilted his head.

“So. That’s how I spent the war. Nae quite as dangerous as if I’d been a few years older, but there you go.”

A quiet settled between the two men, and Jane realized that was a prompt to speak. Of course. Tavish would expect him to talk about the war too.

He grunted, turning to the blackened TV set so he wasn’t looking at Tavish. He shouldn’t talk about it. It left him open to holes in his story. To mistakes. And yet…

For once, he didn’t want to lie.

“There is only one choice for a true American when lady liberty is in danger. I went across that ocean to a darkened continent, and fought for everything this country stands for,” he croaked, the way he always started this story when he sloppily told it while tilting on his barstool. Only his own voice sounded different to him, here in his apartment with the enemy.

Maybe it was the fact that Tavish was always so open, so honest, so infinitely caring that Jane didn’t feel he was able to lie anymore. But whatever the reason, when Jane looked back at Tavish, he realized with dawning recognition that he trusted this man.

“Tav…” he said, and his voice nearly cracked with his sudden emotions.

Tavish sensed the change right away. He sat up, spine straighter, his full attention on Jane. “Yeah? Somethin’ wrong mate?”

“Tavish when I…” He choked a little, barely able to look at Tavish. “When I went to fight in the war…I went alone. I bought my plane ticket over there, and I fought just like any other soldier, but I…I went alone.”

The understanding Jane was looking for didn’t happen. Just confusion, an attempt to understand what could make the usually stoic Soldier crack like this.

“I was…rejected. Not a single branch of the military wanted me. I was the proudest, damndest American that ever showed up for showed up at those drafting booths _and they turned me down._ ” The words were a growl, the ability to shout somehow squashed in the heavy darkness of the apartment. “I still went though. I flew over, and killed every single Nazi I could find. I still earned it.”

Now he really couldn’t look. It felt like something had been crushed in his chest, like the secret had been holding his ribcage in shape.

“Hey.” The voice was soft, certain, a sharp contrast to Jane’s own. Tavish placed a hand on his shoulder, and Jane was able to look up and see him so differently from before. His expression wasn’t pity—it was so much more kind than that—and it wasn’t the odd way he flirted with his eyebrow quirked. It was genuine compassion, the most alien thing Jane had ever been shown. “None o’ that matters, you know. Not tae me at least. As far as I care, you’re the greatest Soldier in the world, no matter where your medals come from.”

His hand pinched Jane’s shoulder so strongly. It was like warmth was spreading out from it, even though in reality it was still chilled from the desert night. Jane couldn’t figure out how this man could actually make him feel…not ashamed.

“You can’t…you cannot tell anyone,” he eked out, and Tavish nodded immediately.

“I won’t. Nae on my life.”

After that, there was nothing to say. Jane waited for the wave of regret that was about to hit him after revealing his deepest secret, but it never came. Tavish’s hand patted him on the back and it wasn’t uncomfortable. Not the way Jane had come to regard physical contact from others.

The next time Jane roused himself, he looked to see the Demoman barely able to keep focus. It was affecting him too, their night of drunken celebration that couldn’t be put off with glasses of water. He stood up.

When he came back to the living room he tossed the spare blanket over Tavish’s head.

“Sleep up. I want you out of here by six am.”

Another look of confusion passed over Tavish’s face, but he was in no state to argue. He pulled the blanket over his form, and was out before his check even touched the cushion.

Jane went to his room, the farthest one in the apartment of three. He thought of checking the door one last time, but decided against it. If there was any trouble, he knew he’d have backup.

 


	4. RED Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this idea from a post on the tf2chan ages ago and always wanted an excuse to write it haha

“And then I tore out both of their spines! With my bare hands! It didn’t matter that they were waving peace signs on a stick I did anyway!” The RED Soldier punched his hand in the air and yelled “Oo-rah!” just in case anyone didn’t realize this was the most important part of the story.

“That’s real impressive Soldier,” the Engineer told him. “But ya’ll can sit down now. You almost knocked over Salty Pete.”

Soldier looked over to see that, indeed, his free arm has almost smacked the cardboard cutout of his beloved comrade into the campfire. He sat down and put his hands in his lap.

The fire outside of RED base was crowded tonight, the usual occupants of the nightly session joined by two guests: Demo and Engie. Both of the REDs shot uncomfortable looks across the fire every now and again, always met by the blank, hardened stares of the cutouts. Demo sipped the mug of his tree-bark tea, trying not to blanche at the taste.

“Sorry about that Slimy Perry,” Solider apologized, putting a hand on the cutout’s shoulder. “It’s hard to control myself when thinking about the war times. Nothing like a good gab about soldiering to get the blood pumping!”

The cigarette Soldier had taped to Salty Pete’s mouth fell off, but Soldier didn’t seem to care.

He turned to the humans across from him. “By the way, thanks for coming privates! The three of us don’t get a lot company out here when we decide to throw our parties.”

“Cannae imagine why.” Demo sipped his drink and made a face. How had Soldier even gotten tree-bark out here anyway?

“They cannot grasp the deep bond between fellow soldiers and talking about things we have killed in the name of America. Engie! Pass me Pooper-Pants Peter’s drink. He needs more tea.”

Engie, every the patient one, passed Pepper Pot Pete’s mug over to Soldier, watched him dump it out, and then accepted a newly full mug. Demo turned around to discreetly pour a whiskey flask into his own.

“Ahhh, look at us!” Soldier said proudly. “You two have been fighting those BLUs for so long, you’re practically soldiers yourselves! We wouldn’t mind you coming back any day to sit with us. It’s great! Sometimes Miss Pauling even joins us.”

“Errr…sure?” Demo shrugged, much happier now that the whiskey had vaporized his taste buds. “You lads look a little lonely out here; dinnae there used tae be a third one? Cannae say I miss him though, he was always tryin’ tae take my team role as the best one-eyed bastard.”

The change in Soldier was instant. A pout could be seen underneath the helmet, and Soldier looked forlornly at a space where a third cutout was probably intended to be. Engie and Demo shared a look.

“Something the matter Soldier?” Engie asked him.

Soldier wiped away a manly tear. “No, I just…have not thought about it for a long time until just now.”

Demo leaned sideways, trying to get a look under Soldier’s helmet. “Did er…somethin’ happen tae Iron-Eye, lad?”

Soldier nodded, then took a steadying breath. “I accidently sat on him.”

“Oh.”

That…was not surprising in the end. Soldier could be particularly careless, even with things that meant a lot to him. The silence dragged on for a long time, all of attendees sipping their drinks or holding cigarettes against their cardboard mouths. Eventually Demo was drunk and Soldier was getting back in to his various war stories, and the night rolled on under the clear Badlands sky. It wasn’t until Medic came out, angry at Soldier because he’d promised to come be a test subject an hour ago, that the party finally dispersed. Engie slunk off saying something about a project he needed to finish, and Demo was left alone with the silent paper men.

“Tavish! Can you make sure everyone gets inside once the fire is gone?” Soldier asked before he left.

“Wzat? Huh? Oh, sure…” Demo grunted, lifting his chin off his chest.

“Thank you! You are a good friend private!” And with that, Soldier was gone.

Demo dozed off briefly, with the help of a spare scrumpy bottle he’d stashed under the log. He woke when a few drops of rain splattered against his face, and wiped them off with annoyance. Grumpily, he staggered off back to base, and dropped in to bed without hesitation. He had a feeling he was forgetting something-

Any more thought than that trailed off in to the night.

* * *

Demo woke to the sound of rain. It was odd, they never did much rain out here, something Demo’s Scottish blood mourned for. So when he looked out his window and saw that the usually blue sky was a threatening grey, he was more focused on that than putting two and two together. Then all at once, his eye snapped open and he went barreling out in to the storm.

“ _Shiteshiteshiteshite_ …” he murmured as his bare feet _shlock_ ed through the wet mud, desert dirt unused to so much extra moisture. He skidded to a halt at what remained of the fire, slapping a hand against his forehead in despair.

Salty Pete and Pepper Pot Pete might as well have been Drippy Doug and Slouching Sam. They hung drearily off their wooden supports like empty rubber gloves, only getting more sodden as the storm came down. Even as Demo attempted to scoop the cardboard men in to his arms and carry them off to safety, Pepper Pot Pete’s backpack peeled away at his touch.

“Oh hell…”

* * *

“Engie!” Demo groaned as he burst in to the lab. Engie, ever an early riser, looked up from the dispenser he was tinkering with. “We got an emergency here.” With that, he dropped the soggy army men on to the Engineer’s worktable.

“Huh,” was all Engie replied, looking down at the dripping piles of wood.

“Is that all you have tae say man? Look at this,” Demo moped. “They’re nae even people anymore, just sad socks full o’ soup.”

“I hate to break it to you Demoman, but I don’t think these fellas were people to begin with.” Engie examined the cutout on top, the one who was once Salty Pete. “What exactly happened?”

“Well, Solly went off tae help Medic, and he asked me tae bring his friends in. I fell asleep and dinnae,” Demo explained as he rubbed his neck. He put his hands up at Engie’s raised eyebrow. “I was drunk! And how was I supposed tae know it would rain?”

With a shrug, Engie set Salty Pete back down. “That’s a real shame Demo, but I don’t see how that makes it an emergency on my part.”

“C’mon man, use that big brain o’ yours! Soldier loves these guys, he thinks they’re real.” Looking down sadly at the Petes, Demo added, “he’ll be devastated.”

Engie took a moment to consider that. “But what do you want me to do about it? Even if they dry out, they ain’t going to be the same anymore.”

“Ahg,” Demo groaned in annoyance. “Well if we cannae fix them then-”

“Yo! Hardhat! Got anymore of that tape? Soda Popper’s gettin’ all wonky again…”

Demo’s attention immediately whipped to the Scout, who had decided to enter the scene like a crash-landed rocket full of opportune skill.

“Ah-ha! That’s it!” He jabbed a finger at Scout. “Scout can draw.”

Scout blinked for a few seconds, not expecting to find Demo in the lab nor expecting to be waylaid by artistry accusations. “Uh. Yeah, dat’s right. Scout _can_ draw.” He swung his gun over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows. “What about it?”

“This is perfect, alright.” Demo turned to Engie. “If you can get some wooden crap together in the right shape, Scout can make some new ones, and Solly’ll never have tae know the difference.”

“So you’re going to cover up you murdered his friends by having us build new ones?” Engie shrugged. “Huh. Works for me I guess.”

There was a brief moment where everything was going fine, Engie grabbing a spare saw and plywood from the back when Scout actually caught up on what was going on.

“Woah woah man! And why exactly should _I_ do this?” Scout put his remaining hand on his hip.

Demo grabbed him by the shoulders. “Because those are his _friends_. If he knows I killed them he’ll never be the same. What if he hates me?”

Scout just raised an eyebrow. Demo sighed.

“I’ll do your portion of the base chores for a month if you help out.”

“Hey, you got yourself a deal, pally.”

* * *

For the rest of the morning, Demo flitted in and out between the two, helping where he could. Engie knew how to do this construction stuff as well has his chosen field, but nailing and sandpapering weren’t exactly the Demoman’s forte. But he was at least better at that than when he tried to help with the artistic part. Scout sat cross-legged on the floor, copying off the mangled remains of Soldier’s cardboard friends. He got tired of Demo constantly peeking over his shoulder, and finally just told him to fuck off.

Then, after almost a whole day of work, they managed to produce two works of art nearly identical to the originals.

“Do you think Solly’ll notice they’re made out o’ wood instead o’ cardboard?” Demo asked as he looked him over the final time.

Engie shrugged. “Hard to tell what he’ll notice, or what he cares about. It’s a mystery with that man. Only way to find out is to show it to him.”

Demo sighed, but Engie was right. Time to face the music.

He scooped up New Salty Pete and New Pepper Pot Pete and stored them where they should have gone to begin with.

* * *

Demo pretty much invited himself to the campfire that night. If things were going to go tits up, he’d rather know now. Soldier had been overjoyed, promised that he’d whip up some more bark tea right away. They all gathered under the stars, a picture of the previous night minus Engie. They’d pulled some wood from RED base that hadn’t been dampened by the day’s sudden rain.

“Scary Perry and Pete Tooty-Fruity feel heavier tonight,” Soldier remarked in confusion after he’d hauled them in to place. Demo pulled at the collar of his t-shirt.

“Aye. That’s what happens later in life. We all get a bit heavier.”

“You more than most, son!” Soldier barked, then laughed at his own joke.

“Well that means there’s more o’ me tae love,” Demo replied, but it didn’t have the same ring as their usual banter. He stopped talking as Soldier started, picking up a war story he’d been telling last night. But, although Soldier had bought everything about his wooden friends, Demo didn’t feel relieved. In fact, even though things seemed to be going well he found himself tensing even more as the story went. He realized it was guilt: and no amount of tricking his friend would make that go away.

“Mary I-….listen,” he interrupted. Soldier turned helmet-covered eyes at him. “There’s somethin’ I need tae tell you. I, er…I messed up. I dunno how tae say this but-”

“You left the soldiers out in the rain and they got all soggy? And then you build new ones out of wood and replaced them so I wouldn’t feel bad?”

Demo’s mouth fell in to a perfect ‘O’. “How did…?”

“Scout told me,” Soldier half smiled. "I saw him coming in to mess hall covered in paint and wanted to know what the hell happened to him.

“Scout? That rat bastard, no way in hell am I doin' chores for a little snitch. When I get my hands on him-”

This time, Soldier laughed. “Tavish, it’s okay. I’m glad he told me. I’m glad you tried to tell me too.”

Realizing Soldier had known this whole time, Demo couldn’t help but shuffle in embarrassment. Then again, he didn’t look heartbroken, which is what Demo had been actually dreading.

“So…you’re nae mad?”

Soldier’s smile faded a little. “No, not really. I am sad about Paul and Pesto, but then I heard how hard you worked to try and make me not sad. And, since these guys were made by some of my best friends, I think I can like them just as much as the old guys. So, no, I’m okay.”

Demo let out a rush of air and rubbed his face. He returned the smile Soldier shot him across the fire.

“Thanks mate. I’m really sorry I dinnae bring them inside in the first place, though. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Sure I can! Just promise you won’t kill any of my other friends in the future and we’ll be OK.”

“Aye. That I can do.”


	5. BLU Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place chronologically last. Once they’re all published ill make like a table of contents for what order they’re in

BLU team slowly packed up the base, their movement to the newly refitted Hydro soon to be underway. The news had come as a surprise for almost everyone: they’d never expected to see that shithole again, not when it had been confusing as hell and lead to mind-numbingly long stalemates. But, soon after they’d gotten used to their Coldfront base, they’d received a pre-recorded message from the Administrator informing them of their re-location.

Demo lifted a box on to the back of Engie’s truck. Various swords rattled around inside, and one of them even yelled in protest of the rough treatment.

“Ah, quite your blubberin’,” Demo told the box. He dusted off his hands; that was the last of his possessions.

It’d be nice to be back in New Mexico, where he’d be able to use his own car again. As much as he appreciated the Engineer’s generous offer to transport some of the team, sharing the cab with two people for any extended period of time was hell on wheels.

With packing done, he went throughout the base, making sure he hadn’t forgot anything. It wouldn’t do to lose another melee weapon halfway across the country. Ah, his poor Ullapool Caber…

Instead of finding loose gear, he found the BLU Soldier, standing on the balcony of the warehouse and smoking a cigar. His collar was popped up to shield him against the wind, and he leaned over the railing like he was searching for something only the blank sheets of ice could tell him.

“You know you’ll catch snow blindness if you keep squintin’ like that,” Demo told him as he joined him at the rail. Soldier only grunted. Since he hadn’t replied with a ‘fuck off’, that meant Demo was free to keep talking. “Why do you think they want us tae head back down south so quickly? I thought we’d left Hydro in the shite heap where it belonged.”

“Hmm,” was all Soldier said. Demo shrugged, and simply stared out on the drifts of snow with him.

To say he and Soldier were friends wasn’t inaccurate, but it was a _strange_ truth nonetheless. As much as Soldier tried to be return to the man he was before the WAR, resetting the past half a decade of his life had been a lot more difficult than he originally thought. Layers of mistrust and self-sufficiency had built him in to an anti-social person, and reuniting with the RED Demoman couldn’t completely change that. Demo could tell that it frustrated him: he would try to interact with the team, to be friendly, but he never could quite get the nuances of social interaction. It always came off like an act, and Soldier knew it.

But, to Demo, it was that he tried that mattered. What had once been nothing but a steely, mutual hatred between them, had thawed into acceptance and nights of silent companionship.

“We’re on a express train to hell, Demoman.”

The unprompted statement took Demo by surprise. “What makes you say that, laddie?”

Soldier took longer to answer this time. “The end’s coming up soon. Tavish talked to you about the cameras?”

It took a second to remember the conversation in the bar, but Demo eventually nodded. “Aye. He thinks that RED ‘n BLU are dyin’ right under our noses. I dunno how much I believe it though. I mean, the gravel wars have always been kind o’ a farce, havn’ they? I dunno what difference a couple o’ silent cameras make.”

At one point, Soldier might have punched him for implying in any way the crusade against RED wasn’t a holy war. But now he just looked out silently, the righteous fire that had burned within him for three decades snuffed out like a light.

“It is more than that. I can feel it. The end is coming.”

Demo barked out a humorless laugh. “Are we talkin’ dreams intae evidence now? In that case, _I_ feel that we _won’t_ lose our jobs, and we’ll keep getting paid tae have fun until the end of time.”

“Hm.” Soldier grunted in a way that said Demo was entitled to his opinion. “That’s not going to happen. It’s ending. Has to.”

Demo blinked, the way Soldier had said that seemed wrong. “You…actually sound like you _want_ the war to end.”

“…I do.”

“What?” Could Demo be hearing that right? “How can you say that? You love fightin’, more than the rest of us combined.” Even with all the changes that had come over Soldier in the last year, _that_ couldn’t be one of them. “I mean, you’re the bloody _Soldier_!”

Soldier laughed bitterly. “I am, aren’t I?” He looked down at the remains of his cigar, letting the wind whisk it away as he let go. “Some Soldier. It’s gone Demoman. Everything that kept me going is gone. I’ve been running on fumes up until now, so used to going through the motions I didn’t realize the joy was all burned up.”

Demo caught it too. That sudden feeling of despair, the knowledge that the end was coming. His mouth felt dry as he said, “what exactly are you talking about?”

“It’s a joke. One that was played on some of us willingly, but only now do I get it. And it’s not funny.” Soldier’s eyes were blank as he looked at the snowscape. “I’m ready for it to be done. I’m ready stop.”

“You’re nae talkin’ about…” Demo began, but something in Soldier’s voice told him that was exactly what he was talking about. “Jesus Soldier. You dunnae have to…you dunnae have tae go through with that! Just because you dunnae want to fight anymore doesnae mean civilian life is something worse than death.”

The alarm in his chest rose as Soldier just shrugged.

“It cannae be all bad,” Demo promised. “You’ll get tae be with DeGroot, aye? Without havin’ tae sneak around. And me ‘n Mary will still be your mates. And the team! You got so much to live for…”

The platitudes felt bland against his tongue, but he didn’t know what else to say. He never could imagine Soldier to be the one to give up, not when he seemed tougher than the salt of the earth he must have come from.

To Demo’s surprise, Soldier actually nodded. “I know. I know I have a lot to live for now.”

“Then why…?”

Soldier shrugged again. But this time, he followed the motion by tearing his eyes away from Coldfront and looking at Demo. “I honestly don’t know. Right now its just thoughts. I know I won’t do them, but that doesn’t make them go away.”

Demo slowed his breathing, praying to god Soldier was right, but knowing that things were still bad even if he was.

“You should tell DeGroot.”

Soldier shook his head. “He cares too much. He cares so much he wouldn’t listen.”

“Is…that why you’re telling me?”

“Yeah.” It was as simple as that. “For now. Just in case…things get worse. Don’t let me do anything drastic. I can’t hurt him again.”

Demo nodded. Although he couldn’t fully understand what was going on in the Soldier’s mind, a mind that had been different and inscrutable to start with, he could still sympathize with the fuckery this place had done to him. So, he was willing to be Soldier’s friend who didn’t care quite enough, since that’s what he needed right now.


	6. Graham / Mary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on idea YourChickenMan had

It was a cool January evening, one that made all the raccoons huddle inside the castle like giant balls of furry mold. Unlike mold, every time they heard a disturbance, they shifted from their chosen positions and hissed until the Mary came in and told them to get a grip. Graham thought they were less like mold and more like roaches.

“Hey! Shoo!” he told a particularly naughty one, who at this moment was blocking at least thirty percent of the television screen. The raccoon ignored him, and continued to paw at the multi colored lights on the TV. Graham had _just_ gotten in to a comfortable position, eager to unwind after getting back from base, and was in no mood to get off the couch. “I’m warnin’ you…whoever you are. You won’t like me if I have tae come over there.”

The raccoon, considered this, jumped on top of the TV, and began to chew on the antenna.

“Maaaajoorrrr,” Graham whined helplessly.

Mary came in to find the scene, and frowned at the sight of the raccoon scaling his TV set.

“Admiral Buttercrust! That is conduct most unbecoming!” With that he scooped the rebellious rodent. The Admiral of course tried to bite his arm off, but Mary just ignored it like he always did. “Alright now, get out of here.”

Graham watched it skitter off with relief. “Thanks lad. He’s been pesterin’ me for the past forty-five minutes.”

“ _She_ ,” Mary corrected as he set the antennae back in line. “The Admiral is a lady and a loving mother.”

“…Right.” Graham sank further in to the couch. “I cannae even tell them apart, let alone _that_ just by looking at them.”

“It’s easy! They all have their own unique personalities, you just need to spend more time with them.”

“Thanks but I’ll pass,” Graham huffed. “I’m already doin’ the minimum by lettin’ them stay in me home.”

“Hey!” Mary protested. “They were here first.”

Graham just waved him off. Seeing he wouldn’t convince Graham about the benefit of raccoon ownership any time soon, Mary walked away, most likely to do something _active_. Why he liked to do that instead of relaxing after work, Graham would never guess.

The Demoman’s calm evening went on for a several glorious minutes. It could be rough living in a castle with a multitude of barely housebroken animals, but Mary really did love his troops. Graham would never suggest getting rid of them, no matter how often they tried to bite or tripped him in the middle of the night. One can get used to anything after long enough.

In fact, he had almost forgotten there was anything strange about the castle at all when another raccoon appeared.

“Hey!” Graham said, his voice dangerously low. “Do you want me tae sick Major on you again?”

Only he realized then that this wasn’t the same raccoon from before. This one, in a fit of uniqueness, was adorably fat, and waddled closer to the far side of the couch. Graham tensed as it climbed up, but frowned in surprise at is simply laid down instead of bothering him.

“What? Havenae come here tae nibble on me?”

The raccoon didn’t respond. It’s eyes were half closed, and it stared at the rerun of _Girl’s Adventures with Saxton Hale: The Animated Series_ with mild interest. Graham continued to eye his sudden new companion, but when the raccoon made no move for several minutes, he shrugged and let the vermin stay there. It wasn’t until later, after he’d gone through several thrilling episodes with Saxton and Girl Guide Troop 309, that he checked the clock and realized Mary would probably want to go grab dinner soon. When he was about to get up, he spotted the raccoon again, and could have sworn it was closer than when he’d last seen it. But it looked to be sound asleep, so he shook his head and left it to its garbage-related dreams.

* * *

“Commander Poppin’ Fresh, you WILL give Graham back his sock this instant or you will receive disciplinary action!”

The Commander looked between Mary and Graham, weighing its options. Finally, it dropped the sock it had been holding in its greedy little paws.

Mary scooped it up immediately and examined it. “Uh-huh. And WHERE is the rest of it Commander?” He shook the sock for emphasis. “Do not THINK just because of your position you can undercut your fellow soldiers like this!”

The raccoon paused in cleaning its ears. It might have been thinking, or it might have been feeling the rumble in its stomach that caused it to hack up a large hunk of fabric on to the third-floor stairs.

“Uhg,” Graham recoiled. “He can keep it.” He left Mary to deal with whatever punishment was worthy of eating the toe of a perfectly good sock. Probably half the normal sour cream rations.

Graham had forgotten about the fat raccoon when he sat himself back in the living room. It had been a week, so when his previous couch companion appeared once again, he blinked in surprise. The raccoon curled up on the seat once again, and Graham waited to see if it would do anything new.

It didn’t, and Graham asked, “are you plannin’ somethin’? Why else would you tryin’ tae get close to me?”

It didn’t respond, but Graham kept his eye on the raccoon the whole program. Then, ever so subtly, when it thought Graham wasn’t looking, it scooted closer to him. It did that several times, finally so close that it was curled against his thigh. Graham had the decency to pretend not to notice, and smiled to himself.

* * *

Mary came in next weekend to find the two on the couch, tighter than two peas in a pod.

“Graham…are you… _petting_ Major Cinnamon Bun?”

It was amazing to see Graham have any sort of positive interaction with the raccoons, and his boyfriend smiled pleasantly at the raccoon on his lap.

“Aye. Montgomery ‘n I are mates now, seein’ as he’s the only person in this castle who hasnae tried tae chew me face off.” Graham scratched Montgomery happily behind the ears.

“But…when did this happen? And why?”

Graham shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe because I’m quieter and dunnae move around as much? Sorta like him.”

“So he likes you because you two are equally lazy?”

Graham snorted, but motioned Mary to come sit by them. The Soldier huffed, but obliged. He reached over and scratched the raccoon’s head.

“You can’t call him Montgomery. He already has a name.”

“Aw why nae? You get tae pick everyone else’s name. Why canne I have this one?”

“Because now his name is dumb and Scottish.”

“Good. Better than bein’ named after pastries after you couldnae think o’ any more animal-word-association.”

That got a chuckle out Mary as he leaned his head on Graham’s shoulder. It was an a relaxing moment until Mary added, “He can’t sleep in the bedroom though. He cheated on The Lieutenant with Private Biscuit, and the two have never gotten along since.”

“I’ll never understand what goes on in this bloody castle.”


	7. Everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where graham screws everything up

“Tavish, close the window, you lads are bein’ entirely too loud out there.”

“Ah, I’m sorry Mrs. DeGroot, you’ve got the wrong one again.” Graham rubbed the back of his neck, his escape in to back yard blocked by the hunched over old woman who looked about ready to smack him.

“Dunnae lie tae your mother Tavish, I can tell the sound of me own son’s voice.”

“No, no it’s true!” Graham put his hands up. “’S really me, Graham. I just came in for a bathroom break.”

Mrs. DeGroot frowned, and it felt like she was staring daggers in to him behind her glasses. He continued to shuffle nervously, wondering how this always ended up happening to him.

Finally, Mrs. DeGroot huffed, and let him past. “Fine. I suppose you are. But tell Tavish about the window when you go out there!”

“Yes ma’am. Will do ma’am.” He turned to the side and shuffled past in to the great beyond.

It always happened at least once when they decided to all hang at Tavish’s house, to Graham’s consistent embarrassment. It was simply too hard to tell them apart without the different shirts.

“DeGroot, your Mum wants you to close the window,” Graham said as he sat back down in the plastic chair that had become his by many visits and seven tenths of the law.

Tavish noticed his discomfort and smirked. “She try tae tell you tae do it, dinnae she?”

“…Aye.”

Tavish snorted and got up to go deal with it.

“So, I miss anythin’?”

“No, not really.” Mary sipped his own beer, waving his bare feet in the reflective blue of the mansion’s swimming pool. “Jane was just telling me how he and Tavish first met. Did you know they fought the police together? You cannot get any more romantic than that son, and that’s god’s honest truth.”

If Graham didn’t know any better, he would say there was the faintest hint of blush in Jane’s cheeks.

“Well, it’s a hell o’ a lot more whimsical than how we met,” Graham agreed.

“And how was that?” the usually uninterested BLU Soldier asked. Probably because he was trying move the topic off of himself.

Mary had his mouth halfway open when Graham shrugged, and interrupted with, “oh. I gave him a handjob.”

“Graham!” Mary shouted indignantly while Jane snorted a little bit of beer from his nose.

“What? We’re all adults here.”

Jane pulled the helmet over his face as far down as it would go, the red on the back of his neck still apparent. Mary continued to glare, making it clear that was definitely _not_ something open for discussion. Thankfully, they were saved any further embarrassment of Graham’s big mouth by the return of Tavish, who sat down next to Mary. Graham shrugged, and dropped it.

“Sorry that keeps happenin’ tae you,” Tavish said to Graham as he stuck his feet back in the water, still on the subject of his mother.

“Ah, no problem. I have a feelin’ it’s goin’ tae happen more often than nae when we’ll be all together from now on.”

“Aye. Thank goodness we can all tell each other apart, otherwise this little gang would be more confusin’ than a carnival mirror house.”

Graham snorted. “Is that so? If I were you, I wouldnae go makin’ as bold a claim as that.”

When Tavish didn’t laugh, Graham looked up to see that the other Demoman was actually confused by his statement. Graham looked over at Jane and Mary for backup.

“I mean, I hear it’s pretty hard tae tell the Soldiers apart, eh?”

Mary caught on and snorted. “That only happens when he’s drunk. Besides, we’ve forgiven and forgotten that, right Tav?”

There were gears turning in the RED Demo’s mind, and the sudden memory of a terrible piano night hit him like a truck. He looked at all the assembled party guests, trying to formulate words. He glanced between Graham and Mary.

“You…told him? About that?”

“Well, yeah,” Mary said, scratching his head. “Of course. Didn’t you tell Jane?”

“Tell me what, maggots?” Jane growled, attracting the rest of the group’s attention. “What in god’s name are you Nancies talking about?”

Mary and Jane shared a look, the answer to Mary’s question rather obviously a ‘no’. Graham looked anywhere but at Jane, not willing to let the cat out of the bag any further lest the accusatory neck snap fall on him.

When no one spoke up, Tavish cleared his throat. “Well, erm. It’s a bit o’ a long story. Back before we made up, Mary was askin’ me about the WAR and I got…a bit emotional.” An understatement, and Jane continued to glare at the Demoman. Tavish continued, “I er, wasnae really myself. Nae even by back then’s standards. So I got real drunk and…kissed Mary on accident.”

You could have heard a leaf drop on the surface of the pool it was so quiet. Mary chugged the rest of his beer, just so he would have an excuse not to look at anyone. Graham was frozen; Tavish and Jane looking at each other, more furious electricity between them than he’d ever seen. At least, not since they’d stopped five-year long feud. The Soldier’s face was unreadable, contrasted to Tavish’s which was looking beyond guilty.

“What do you mean,” Jane began, his voice dangerously low, “‘on accident’?”

Tavish sputtered over his tongue. “Well, I thought he was you.”

Jane’s eyes burned beneath his helmet, and even Graham could tell that was the exact wrong thing to say.

“You _thought he was me??_ ” Jane demanded, looking about ready to rise out of his chair.

“I was drunk!” Tavish pleaded, but that only angered Jane more.

“You are always drunk you son of a bitch!” Jane spit at him, this time standing as his hands balled in to fists. “Are you telling me if he was wearing a blue shirt right now you couldn’t tell me from him?”

He swept an accusatory finger at Mary, who balked. “It’s not like that!” he defended. “It was an accident, not anybody’s fault. Plus I was not wearing my uniform so it might have been confusing.”

“ _What?!_ ”

Mary’s eyes widened. “No, wait, that is not what I meant! Not wearing my uniform like-”

But it was too later. Jane’s chair was knocked over as he stormed inside, and Tavish was flying after him just as fast. Mary and Graham exchanged the most worried of looks as they watched Tavish’s wet feet slap across the concrete, leaving a trail of dark footprints in to the house.

* * *

“Jane!”

Tavish caught up to Jane as he was halfway through the living room. He grabbed Jane’s arm, and the Soldier twisted away immediately.

“Jane please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I dinnae tell you sooner.”

Jane felt like he couldn’t look at him. His head was pounding so hard with every little screaming nerve that awakened when he felt his old self coming back. This was the rage that had burned inside, that feeling of betrayal that he thought he’d finally been free from but he _wasn’t_ and Tavish had _hurt_ him again-

“Is that all your sorry for?” he growled, unable to look at his best friend.

“Well I…” Tavish stuttered. He had become so unsure when it came to them, or anything more serious than choosing who bought the beer that night. It was agony, that comfort that let their personalities slide together lost somewhere they couldn’t get back. Tavish swallowed. “I dinnae think it would be a big deal.”

“A big deal??” Jane’s voice cracked. “It isn’t a big deal that you cannot even tell me and your goddamned teammate apart? We’re just so alike, might as well be interchangeable. Well why don’t you go run back to your RED buddy, huh? Maybe _he’ll_ let you fuck him.”

Jane’s chest heaved on the last accusation, and tears of anger pricked his eyes. Tavish was looking at him in shock, then confusion, then hurt as misery clouded his eye.

“What?” he said blankly, and Jane couldn’t help his words tumble out.

“You heard me, scotty. I bet you’ve thought about it more than once. Probably just what you were looking for, except everything you couldn’t out of me.” The words felt good to say, just as satisfying as the physical wounds he’d inflicted during their unending conflict.

But that sensation quickly faded as Tavish’s face fell. “Jane…I wouldnae…I’d _never_ …the only reason I did any o’ it was because o’ you!”

He said it with such ferocity Jane almost took a step back.

“It was _all_ because ‘o you! I wanted you back so _badly_ but it was never goin’ tae happen and I was so confused. I wanted anythin’ that reminded me o’ you, but nothin’ was ever goin’ tae take the place o’ the only man I ever loved.” He pushed back a tear that was forming in his eye. “It was all an accident. He’s my friend, but he’s _nae_ Jane Doe. I dunnae care about look-alikes, or sex,” his lip curling at the word, “the only thing I cared about was _you_.”

Jane felt the open desperation radiating off of Tavish, and it shook him. They were both leaking tears silently now, the echoes of their fight reverberating around the carefully decorated walls.

Tavish dropped his shoulders. “Jane…I…I’m sorry. I’m sorry I kissed him. I’m sorry I dinnae tell you. But you cannae…expect me tae bear this whole thing by myself.”

The shaking in Jane’s body didn’t leave easily. It took seconds, then minutes, to use the breathing exercises he’d learned. One’s that Tavish had helped him with all those years ago. Finally, he was able to push up the brim of his helmet to look at the Demoman full in the face.

“Tavish…”

Tavish looked at him, still hurt. But he reached forward with his hand to link it with Jane’s.

Jane let himself be pulled in to a careful embrace, on that he could let himself relax in to if he really tired. Feeling Tavish’s hand on his back, he sighed, tucking his head against Tavish’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I…forgive you. And I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have said that. The guys just said some things that…riled me up.”

“Aye. It’s alright. We’re both idiots. Think we learned that the hard way.”

Jane sighed again. “Why can’t things be easy anymore, Tav?”

The question was humorless, and Jane felt Tavish’s chin dip against his shoulder. “I dunno. I wish they were.”

“We really are a mess, aren’t we?”

“Aye.”

“Do you ever…think we’re too broken to fix?”

Jane felt Tavish squeeze him tighter, only a moment’s hesitation. “Maybe. I dunno. But I dunnae care, because I’m nae givin’ up. We may never get back tae where we were, but every second we’re together is worth a lifetime o’ being alone.”

Jane returned Tavish’s squeeze. They could. They _would_. They could keep working at their shattered remains of a relationship until they had something again. Jane dropped his hand to the side, so he and Tavish could link fingers again.

* * *

“So, er, you two sort things out?” Graham asked as Jane and Tavish returned.

“Aye, just a few apologies, we’re good,” Tavish affirmed. Jane didn’t say anything.

As they took their places once again, Mary discreetly whispered, “I am sorry your boyfriend kissed me Jane. It was an accident.”

“Do _not_ push your luck, sister.”

Graham tried to keep up the wilting conversation he and Mary had held before the other’s returned. Mary wasn’t as good at pretending. His eyes kept darting between Tavish and Jane, but they seemed to be telling the truth, and whatever had transpired between them appeared to have mended their hurt feelings. Eventually, life returned to the rest of party, and the tension melted away. Things were good until Mary splashed Graham with one of his wayward kicks.

“Hey! Watch it! I only have the one set o’ clothes here.”

“Aw, you can borrow Tavish’s if worse comes to worse.” Mary splashed him again, this time with purpose. “Besides, this was supposed to be a pool party.”

Graham raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Does that mean you have your own suit?”

“Affirmative!”

“Then you won’t mind if I do this-!” All in one motion, Graham abandoned his chair and tackled the RED, sending them both in to the pool.

Tavish and Jane groaned as a wave hit them.

“You two are goin’ tae be the death of me,” Tavish complained, wringing out his red Hawaiian shirt.

Mary resurfaced, laughing as his helmet bobbled off to the other side of the pool. “Do not be such a girl Tavish!”

“You know…” Graham began, leaning against the edge. “ _He_ definitely has a change of clothes here.” He gave a conspirators grin at Mary, who returned it immediately.

Tavish realized too slow, by which point his cries of “you better nae-!” were interrupted by two pairs of hands dragging him in to the water.

Tavish spit chlorine out of his mouth and yelled at his new swim-mates for a good thirty seconds. Seeing as how his anger only made them laugh harder, he gave up, and let himself sink in to the pool. It actually wasn’t so bad on a hot day like this.

They all turned their attention to Jane, who was sitting in his chair, unamused.

“Aw come on lad,” Graham called. “Dunnae be the odd duck out.”

“You are all pathetic,” Jane replied.

“It’s alright Jane,” Tavish began, but Jane held up a hand to cut him off.

“You are all pathetic because my _grandma_ could make a bigger splash than you maggots!”

There was surprise, and then delighted shock as Jane began to get out of his chair. Someone gave whoop of delight as the Soldier actually rand from the edge of the concrete and landed a perfect cannonball within their midst.

“ _Now_ it’s a party!” Graham said, and someone tried to drown him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the story so far if you want to know the timeline:
> 
> 1\. Tavish/Jane  
> 2\. Cyclical 1-7  
> 3\. Sad Drunk Piano  
> 4\. Cyclical 8-10  
> 5\. Mary/Graham  
> 6\. Everyone  
> 7\. Soldiers  
> 8\. RED Team  
> 9\. Demos  
> 10\. BLU Team  
> 11\. The Arena (~Coming Soon~)


End file.
